I’m beginning to think I might be crazy. Well, actually I don’t think I’m crazy, but when I look at myself through other people’s eyes I can see how they might think so. Is that the same thing?
I sit here writing this from a drying chair at the hair salon. It’s my third time here in 2 days. Yes, third, and, no this is not a new part time job. I’m just not happy with how my hair looks. Again.
You may remember that my hair is a source of much drama in my life. Why it’s so complicated, I have no idea. It’s naturally an ashy, very dirty blond. (otherwise known as brown, I suppose.) I like it with blond highlights. Natural color + blond— why is this so complicated? Well, apparently it is. My old stylist ended up settling at a salon over an hour away, so I tried another new person. A super sweet person at a nice salon who seemed to think I should embrace my roots and ditch the blond. Which I’m not interested in. Which is why I am here, again, having her add more blond back.
I was embarrassed to call the first time. She was super nice and told me to come right in. The second time, I was hesitant to call and could almost see her rolling her eyes through the phone line and by the third, I was fully mortified. But, I did anyway, because it still wasn’t right. I know I heard snickering as I walked in and wouldn’t be surprised if they unlisted the salon phone number just to keep me away. But, it’s my hair. I’m the one who has to walk around with it on top of my head and I want it the way I want it. Or, at least close to how I want it. Is that too much to ask?
And then there’s my little website. You may have noticed it’s been a tad bipolar lately. I designed a landing page and in order to add it, ended up switching WordPress themes. The site needed to be rebuilt from the ground up by my lovely web designer, who I know is one step away from murdering me. I’m sure it doesn’t get much worse than coding for a control freak of a graphic designer. Every e-mail I send beings with, “I’m sorry, but…” followed by a laundry list of updates. I hate sending them, but, again: I just want it the way I want it. I’m fully expecting her to block my e-mail address and just forfeit payment, because it’s been a week and we’re still not there yet.
My contractor has simply stopped answering my phone calls because I call to check-in too much and I’m beginning to take the hint. It’s like I’m slowly driving away all the people in my life who I need to function. So, I guess it’s me. I mean, it must be me. Is this what it’s like to be crazy? Or, just really annoying.